


thor vs. the criminal justice system (ft. scott lang)

by celluloid



Series: ið [3]
Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Developing Friendships, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Post-Avengers (2012), Prison, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 21:07:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16312736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celluloid/pseuds/celluloid
Summary: “Lang! New cellmate.”(Because in most cases, had Thor not immediately been found by a group of well-meaning strangers, being exiled to a world he knew nothing about was not likely to go well.)





	thor vs. the criminal justice system (ft. scott lang)

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea why these keep getting longer! They just do!!
> 
> So, fair warning, but this one does get a little political. Not overly so, more the kind of things that are unavoidable to bring up if you're using characters being incarcerated as the springboard for a growth and redemption arc. Like, I get that in order for the Ant-Man movies, specifically, to work they have to be inherently silly, but in some alternate universe out there there's a take in which they play it straight and I bet it's really interesting.

Thor paces.

Three years in exile, three years of never having a firm grasp on the rules, three years of being forced in and out of cages only to wind up in the same spot over, and over, and over again - three years of unheard torture, and he still can’t get used to the feeling.

He’s still imposing enough; he knows that from his stature, how the strangers of this world, even after all this time, still flinch when he looks at them the wrong way. He doesn’t always mean to, but he was never trying to be threatening. Even now, usually. Sure, his temper still gets the best of him - has sent him to even smaller cages, locked away and alone for Odin only knows how long - but he’s never actually wanted to hurt people.

He just doesn’t know what he’s doing. And he needs to live, somehow. Mjolnir is out there, somewhere; it has to be. And some day, Odin will forgive him, will welcome him back into Asgard. He just has to make it through all of this.

Three years and Thor has become nothing more than a petty thief growing weaker by the day. His former strength hovers over him like a phantom limb; hunger gnaws at him from the inside out as he struggles to scrounge up whatever he can and take the rest. 

It’s led the people of this world - California, he has learned - to constantly view him as dangerous, no matter how weak he feels, no matter how much he apologizes. He’s been shocked into submission; the first time he had passed out, but not before the staunch horror flitted across his consciousness of the once-familiar feeling turned so violently against him. New scars decorate his body, often from blades, once from a bullet. His hair is often unkempt, his beard too long, eyes dull and limbs heavy. He’s only been able to truly feel alive when engaged in battle in the cages, but it’s fleeting, and leads to solitary confinement, as they call it. Then the adrenaline fades and he’s left with nothing but his thoughts and after three years of this… he doesn’t want his thoughts.

They demand his identification and he tells them, every time, he is Thor, son of Odin. They want documentation and he has none to provide. At first he’d scoffed; who was not aware of him? But eventually it had become clear the people of California had never heard of him; cruelty beyond cruelties to be banished to a place where absolutely none could help him because none would believe him. Those who put him in the cages would mock him, refer to him as John Doe than by his actual name, and he had no recourse.

The worst had been when he saw there had been an attack on another realm, one called New York judging by the broadcast - and how images had conveyed that Loki had been a leader in the assault. He’d been left to helplessly watch, unknowing of where New York was and completely unable to get there, relieved as a group of five fought and won and angry that he was not a part of it, that he was unable to prove himself to his father by bringing his brother back to justice.

That has, so far, been the only time Thor has cried in his three years of desperately trying to survive. Everything since then has turned into an increasingly dulled routine, in and out of cages, and so: he paces, waiting for these people who call him John Doe to determine what is in store for him this time.

The camera in his cell follows him. He still has height; he’s able to reach up and punch it, shattering its lens as glass shards embed themselves in his fist. He smiles ruefully at the sting as blood beads up and the sound of alarms go off, the bars locking him in opening behind him, the explosion of pain on his head as things go black.

* * *

“Lang! New cellmate.”

Scott jerks from his position on the bottom bunk where he’d been mindlessly zoning out, the guard’s harsh voice cutting through the silence. It’s been a few days since Luis got released, and it’s been an unexpectedly emotional time for him.

When he was first sentenced, he figured his life was over. In a way, it was; two years of prison has been horrible, and boring, and occasionally violent, filled with people he never would have met and never would have talked to otherwise.

But then Luis was his cellmate, and it was impossible not to be his friend. Everybody liked him. Everybody. For all the scuffles and arguments and occasional stabbings and lockdowns between gangs, Luis was one of those guys who rose above it all, not because he was oblivious but because he was so damn amicable, and eventually anybody who had a problem with Luis would have a problem with the rest of the prison population, so it all worked out in the end.

Scott wasn’t quite like that, and he had a way of putting his foot in his mouth that got him in trouble plenty of times from any party imaginable. But he got Luis. And he was so lonely. And Luis made him a lot less lonely.

So as Luis’ release date approached, he’d had a moral dilemma: be happy for him, absolutely, but be extremely sad for himself, because a year without the best celly ever was going to be rough.

And be a little afraid, because there was absolutely no telling who would replace him, and he still has a year to go.

So when the door to his cell opens all the way and in is forced a mountain of a man, with long, unwashed, dirty blonde hair, a beard to match, and way too many muscles and way too many battle scars to go with them, Scott leans into that fear.

He looks homeless, maybe. And Scott would have sympathy for that, and how fucked up the American criminal justice system can be to people less fortunate than him. Except that he also looks like he could eat Scott for breakfast and then use his bones for toothpicks, and Scott is really hoping to live another year so he can get out and see his daughter again, so that takes priority.

Scott wrestles between staying where he is or jumping up and shaking his new roommate’s hand. Because that’s what people do in prison. They shake hands to introduce themselves.

Scott stays where he is, but his friendly nature gets the best of him, and he can’t stop the, “Hi, I’m Scott,” from slipping out once the door shuts behind the new guy.

Said new guy looks at him. He doesn’t even move to put his new shit on the top bunk; he just stares at Scott. Scott notes the bandage wrapped around new guy’s knuckles. Scott has learned by now to not show fear. Scott has to try really hard at that, though.

Scott misses Luis.

Eventually, new guy nods at him. “I am Thor,” he says. “Of Asgard.”

Scott had been trying not to think about it, but his heart skips a beat because that sounds maybe like it could be some kind of racist gang of some kind, and there are white supremacists here and he’s white which is cool and all but he does not want to share a cell with a white supremacist for a year, or literally ever, preferably. 

“So, uh,” Scott says, mouth dry, “what are you in for?” He is definitely praying to whatever god there is that this will not be bad. Like, Luis definitely committed crimes, but he stole smoothie machines. It’s basically as wholesome a crime one can commit.

Thor puts his meagre assortment of prison belongings on the top bunk. Scott notes that he has very muscly arms. Thor fixes Scott was an unreadable gaze, again; his eyes are hard and serious and Scott just wants to see his daughter again, that’s all he wants.

“Hell if I know anymore,” Thor says.

Scott does a double take, because he’d been so freaked out by just how huge new guy is that he never noticed the sheer exhaustion coming off of his body in waves. His shoulders slump, those arms hang limply at his sides; he’s still imposing but his eyes are unfocused and just tired. He doesn’t lean back against the wall, he doesn’t move to sit or lie down, he just stands there, kind of looking at Scott.

“Three years,” Thor continues, halfheartedly gesturing vaguely with one arm, “I have been wandering around this world, unable to return home, unable to obtain aid, provoked into violent acts. I suspect that is what California has had issue with, and they would be right to, except they never listen to me when I tell them who I am, they never believe me when I explain my circumstances, and instead I am merely thrown into cage after cage after cage, this appearing to be the most intense one yet. Am I defeated? I would like to think not, but…” he trails off, eyes flicking towards a top corner of the cell, looking at something beyond it.

Scott’s own fear drains from his body, replaced with empathy, and maybe a bit of internal outrage. Thor speaks so eloquently, like his brain doesn’t match the huge, haggard physique he has. “That’s fucked up,” he says.

“Verily,” Thor agrees.

* * *

So Scott has gotten lucky, again. Thor isn’t quite like Luis: he isn’t chatty or overly friendly, more quiet and lost in his own thoughts. But it gives Scott a peaceful existence when they’re locked away for most of the day, it gives him someone to sit with during meals (and that Thor looks like he could beat everyone else up certainly doesn’t hurt, either), and it gives him a new constant reassuring presence in a life that typically does not have those.

Except Scott isn’t quite like that. He and Luis had fed off of one another; the moments in which they needed space (such as being handed divorce papers, for one) were few and far between, and his natural disposition means they must talk. The brooding is okay but too much is unsettling and he needs the air filled.

So, “Hey, are you okay?” Scott asks.

He’s met with silence; it’s annoying, but not entirely unexpected. But then, Thor finally replies, “What do you mean?” and Scott isn’t sure how to answer that.

“Just… you’re quiet,” Scott says, grasping. “You don’t seem okay.”

Another long pause. “What reason would you have to care?”

Scott rolls out of bed at that, standing up and looking up at the top bunk to see Thor lying on his back, hands folded over his chest, staring up at the ceiling. Height’s really not on his side, but he tries to get some semblance of eye contact going. “I don’t know. Because you’re a person, I guess. Because something seems wrong and it’s not fair that that happen to you.”

Thor doesn’t quite move, but he does look over in Scott’s direction. “And how do you know I am not deserving of such treatment?”

“Is anyone?”

“We are in a building meant to house the worst dregs of your society.”

“Point,” Scott says, because he’s seen some shit in his time at San Quentin, so he can’t really argue with that. “But you’re too quiet. You don’t fit that ‘worst dregs of society’ profile.”

“Perhaps I am silent because I am thinking of all of the horrible things I am going to do.”

Scott crinkles his nose in distaste at that thought. “If you were, you wouldn’t talk like that. I think someone screwed up here, and it wasn’t you.”

Thor sits up at that, sliding off of his own bunk and placing his (gigantic) hands on Scott’s shoulders. “And what of you? Are you among the worst your society has to offer; do you deserve to be here?” At Scott’s silence, he smiles ruefully. “See? It’s different when it’s you. I’ve had enough time to reach that conclusion.”

When Thor turns around to hoist himself back on his bunk, Scott says, in a soft voice, “Where will you go, when you get out?”

Thor freezes at that.

“I know where I’d go,” Scott continues, voice still low. “I know where I’m going to go. But if you don’t know, then that isn’t your fault - that’s the state not looking after you properly. That’s why I think something is wrong, and it’s not on you.”

The lights go out in their cell; across the entire block. Thor jumps back up onto his bed, and Scott gives up.

“Then to answer your question,” Thor finally says into the darkness, and Scott’s eyes shoot back open at that, “no, I do not believe I am okay.”

* * *

“Why are you in here?”

Scott starts from that, setting his book aside to stare up at the bunk above him. Things haven’t really changed between them since he forced them to start talking - it’s difficult for things to be much more awkward considering how silent they already were before - but Scott thought he shouldn’t push his luck since he asked this guy who clearly doesn’t want to get into personal details how he was feeling, so he’d backed off. Let Thor think he confessed to the darkness alone and not him, if that’ll help him feel better.

“I’m a thief. I stole stuff,” Scott says.

“What stuff?”

“Lots of stuff. Stuff I don’t want to get into because they never caught me and never tried me for it.”

“Then you do deserve to be in here,” Thor says, hopping down from his bunk to sit on a chair where he can see Scott. 

Scott rolls over in response, back turned to Thor. “I never said I didn’t,” he says. “Though what they actually caught me for, I shouldn’t be punished for doing that.”

“But you took something that wasn’t yours to take.”

“It’s more complicated than that. Why are you here?”

“I’m a thief. I stole stuff,” Thor says.

Scott rolls back over at that and sits up. Thor is grinning sardonically, which he doesn’t think he’s ever seen before. It’s an interesting sight, but it’s clearly not dangerous or threatening in any way, it’s just so much more odd than what he’s used to seeing from his cellmate, an extremely sharp contrast to the standard silent brooding. “Yeah? What?”

Thor stops smiling at that. “Food, mostly. I needed to survive. I had no other means.”

Scott is silent, thinking it over. “Earlier you said you got violent.”

“If my nourishment is denied and I am going to die…” Thor says, shrugging. 

“Why not go to a shelter?”

“I wandered deserted lands. And I did not know they existed. California simply started putting me behind bars instead, and they provided me shelter, so why argue?”

“Then I was right,” Scott says. “This isn’t your fault. This is the people running things doing a bad job of it. You needed help and nobody gave it to you.”

“Perhaps, but I never asked for care.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”

“Are you often like this?” Thor asks, standing up and pacing. “In a place such as this, are you always inclined to act as though you are good?”

Scott stares at his hands. “I don’t know. Maybe? If I’m not good here, can I claim to be good anywhere else? I have a life out there - I need to be good for it.”

“So I need to be your special project so you can feel as though you are a good person,” Thor says. He stops pacing, an imposing figure hovering over Scott. “And that is why you first initiated conversation with me.”

“No,” Scott says, looking up, only a little intimidated by the height. “I started talking to you because my old cellmate and I talked constantly and it helped the days go by. He was a good person. Hell, I met him in here and he became one of my best friends. He has a girlfriend outside and a life and everything and he got to go back to that and I don’t yet. So I started talking because that’s what we did.”

“Well, I am not him.”

Scott throws a hand up in halfhearted frustration. “Clearly.”

Thor is still just staring at him now, silently, and it’s both creeping Scott out and starting to piss him off. “So if you’re in here for being violent when’s it my turn? You could probably shut me up easily if you wanted to.”

Thor leans back against the wall. “You intend to keep talking?”

“Yeah,” Scott says. Internally, he knows he’s an idiot, so he’s surprised when a small smile graces Thor’s lips and a soft laugh emanates from him.

“How much longer will you be staying here?”

“Ten months, two days.” Like Scott doesn’t have the countdown narrowed to the exact hour, knowing exactly when he’ll see Luis again (though he won’t bother him until a month or so before his release, just to be sure), not knowing exactly when he’ll see Cassie again (which he actively tries not to think about, but, there it is). Then, “You?”

“I do not know and I do not care,” Thor says. “I have ceased paying attention once the machinations of this world made it clear this is my life now and I have begun to accept I will simply be back, if not in this particular prison, then a new one later.”

“So you’re a career criminal with violent tendencies.”

“I am not.”

“Then you’re trapped in the cycle of poverty.”

“I am not poor,” Thor says, haughty. Before Scott can so much as open his mouth, Thor reconsiders. “I was not poor.”

“So you lost everything and nobody is doing a thing to help you.”

“Nobody can help me. But, yes, something like that.”

“I tried,” Scott says. At Thor’s quizzical look, he backtracks. “Not you, specifically, I mean. Though I could, maybe, when I get out, if you want, maybe. No, I mean, I tried to help people who were being stolen from. You know, like Robin Hood.”

“Robin Hood?”

“Robin— What do you mean? Do you not know who Robin Hood is? Steal from the rich, give to the poor?” Thor shakes his head. “Well, that’s what I was trying to do.

“That’s actually why I got caught. Don’t get me wrong, I was an awesome thief,” Scott beams momentarily. “But I only got caught this time around because I was angry, and because I was so mad I was sloppy and petty, and did stupid things like drive my old boss’ car into a pool. So there, you got your answer, that’s why I’m in here.”

“Because you stole from your employer and destroyed his possessions?” Thor asks.

“What? No. I mean, yes,” Scott says, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, that wasn’t the— My point is I’m the one being punished for trying to return customers’ stolen money to them. My old job had me stealing from people who didn’t know any better and when I tried to fix it they fired me, so I fixed it anyway and they sent me here, and now they get to keep stealing anyway, because I’m just some insignificant pawn and they’re untouchable because money.” He actively tries not to be angry, he does not like to be angry, but the injustices that landed him in prison, that separated him from his daughter, that ruined his life through no fault of his own—

“So you are not deflecting blame,” Thor says, crossing his arms.

“I am deflecting blame a little,” Scott concedes. “But I’m not the bad guy. I’m just getting treated like one because it’s easier for them. Tell me you don’t see the same thing happening to you.”

“I have not stolen from anyone as you did,” Thor says.

“Not my point,” Scott says, pointing squarely at Thor’s chest. “But it’s easier to just throw you in a jail cell than to actually acknowledge your problems and help you, right?”

Thor bites his lip. “Perhaps.”

“So it’s all bad.”

“But I was born into wealth,” Thor says. “You would have attempted to steal from me, if you could have?”

“Did you deserve it? Did you earn it? Did you hurt other people to get it?”

Thor pauses at that. “I grew up in it. Truth be told, I do not know how my family acquired it; it was merely all I had ever known.”

“So you’re a trust fund kid whose luck ran out so badly you got sent to prison? Damn,” Scott whistles.

“I do not know what this ‘trust fund’ you speak of is,” Thor says. “My father had quarrel with me, and so he banished me. Three years is, evidently, not enough penance. Though it is perhaps enough time to develop quarrel with him, if only I had the means to question him to his smug face.”

Scott raises an eyebrow; Thor has often claimed to be violent, but has rarely shown true anger, though he has an idea of what might be lying underneath the surface at the brief snarl. “You know there are phones we can use, right?”

“Would I if my father had a phone.”

Guy who apparently grew up rich, has father issues, and rich father doesn’t have a phone. “Right,” Scott says as the lights switch off. “Good talk.”

* * *

“Hey,” Scott says, sliding in next to Thor at lunch, “how do you think we’d do if a bunch of evil robots invaded San Quentin?”

“What?” Thor asks, taking a break from chewing to throw Scott a look.

Scott picks up his apple, like he’s pretending to inspect it for flaws before eating it. “You haven’t heard? Apparently a bunch of evil robots tried to take over a country or something and the Avengers had to stop them. That’s like… the second big invasion they’ve had to deal with in three years.”

“Three years,” Thor says, actually stopping eating, setting down his plastic fork and staring ahead. “Where was this?”

“Sokovia, I think they said?”

“But where is that.”

Scott shrugs. “I dunno, I’m an engineer, not a geographer. Not anywhere near here, I can tell you that much. Do you think you could take on an evil robot?”

“Not like this,” Thor says, “but in another form, I have taken down evil plenty of times, yes. That first invasion you were talking about…”

“New York?” Scott asks. 

“That sounds familiar,” Thor says.

“Well, yeah,” Scott says. “It’s pretty hard to forget an alien invasion.”

Thor blinks, a faraway look in his eye. “I suppose so,” he says, heart clearly no longer in the conversation. “How many people do you estimate perished?”

“What?”

“How many do you think died. In this Sokovia, in your New York.”

It’s Scott’s turn to blink. “I… didn’t think.”

“No. Why would you?” Thor gets up at that, returning his tray and waiting to be escorted out of the cafeteria, leaving a dumbfounded Scott staring after him.

* * *

Scott has the patience to wait until the lights go out, but finds that’s as far as he can limit himself. He should be going to sleep - for all he knows, Thor already has - and he’s sure to get in some shit if he talks loud enough. But.

“Hey,” Scott whispers.

No response.

“Hey,” Scott tries again, a little louder. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what I said but I’m sorry.”

“You don’t know,” Thor rumbles under his breath, a flat statement rather than an inquiry or anything that could possibly get Scott off the hook from his pissed off cellmate.

“No,” Scott says. Honesty is probably the best policy here. Though they’ve gotten along great over the past several months, Scott’s never been able to recapture that chemistry he had with Luis; Thor is actually a sweet enough person, but he doesn’t have that same energy. “Should I? I’m sorry.”

“Cease saying you are sorry if you do not know what you are sorry for,” Thor hisses from above.

“Well then what am I supposed to say?” Scott asks. He leans over the edge of his bed to look up; he catches no sign of Thor, not that that surprises him.

“Do you care for anyone other than yourself?” Thor snaps, and Scott would be a little afraid of his tone if he wasn’t so offended by the insinuation.

“Of course I do,” Scott hisses back. “Don’t say shit like that. You don’t know my life, you don’t know who I’m fighting for, you don’t know what I’ve had to go through in here. Don’t say I don’t care about anyone other than myself.”

Thor huffs from above. “A funny way of showing it, then, by so casually dismissing the deaths of— how many? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Your so-called Avengers may be formidable, but not so much so that they cannot prevent the worst from happening.”

Scott rolls back over. “I didn’t casually— Look, a lot of people die in disasters, okay? It sucks. Nobody wants it. But it’s hard to think of it like that. It’s not like there’s anything we could have done to make things better, so I don’t want to think about it like that.”

It gets quiet once Scott stops talking. The atmosphere remains charged, though; so much so that Scott can almost feel his words hanging in the air, descending upon them, needing something else to break them free. Burst the bubble. He throws his legs over the edge of the bed, standing up and turning to see Thor staring right at him from the top bunk, laying on his side, almost haunted.

“I could have stopped it,” Thor says, quietly. “I could have prevented it.”

“By yourself?” Scott asks.

“Yes.”

“That would be impossible for anyone.”

“Not for me,” Thor says, and Scott could swear there are tears forming. “And not when it’s my fault.”

“How would— How is a bunch of robots attacking a country halfway around the world your fault?”

Thor shakes his head. “Not Sokovia, though I could have helped. New York is my fault.”

Scott furrows his brows. “What were you doing three years ago that was so bad that ended with a massive alien invasion?”

“Four years ago,” Thor starts, “I upstaged my brother, dragged him along to a war he wanted no part of, that I should not have initiated. I was banished for it. I do not know what happened in the year since, but it must have been horrible, for I remember seeing the scenes of your New York from whichever facility I was at at the time - and the one commanding the Chitauri forces? My brother.”

Scott blinks.

“A little sibling rivalry isn’t enough to drive someone to lead an alien invasion,” he eventually settles on, choosing his words slowly. “He probably wanted to do that, with or without you.”

“But if I had been there for him, perhaps he would not have felt the need to do such a thing. Perhaps our lives could have carried on as normal, comrades who worked to maintain order in the nine realms, not attack a helpless world.”

Scott blinks again. He looks into Thor’s eyes; he’s entirely lucid and gravely serious, so he has no idea how to properly respond to this. “Okay, but that’s his fault,” he says.

“How can you be so certain?”

Scott shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “We all make our own choices. By your logic, I could blame almost anyone else for my being in here.”

“You already did that,” Thor points out. “You said your employer had it coming.”

“Okay, but he did,” Scott bristles. “Anything else was on me. So anything your brother did was on him.”

Thor shakes his head, a small motion as he remains lying down. “You do not know Loki.”

“Loki,” Scott says, testing the name out, like it’s slowly coming back to him. The reports had been scarce, the government shutting down journalists, leaving much of the world in confusion, because the live reports had shown plenty and the damage remained so there was no denying it happened - but there had never been a reason released. The name feels vaguely familiar, but would always pale in comparison to an actual mass alien invasion, though there were images of somebody who looked human but with a ridiculous horned helmet.

“I’ve had time to think it over,” Thor says. “Too much time, perhaps. I believe my brother was hurting. I believe it was, at least in part, my fault. But I ignored everyone’s feelings other than my own. And after years of being locked away in this part of the world - far away from wherever he may have ended up - I’ve come to the conclusion that, had I been there for him, he never would have felt the need to lash out in such a manner. And, had my father never banished me, I would have at least retained the power to stop him. Either way: I could have prevented all of it, and instead I sat imprisoned.”

Scott leans back against the wall. He cocks his head. “How many people have you told that to?”

Thor blinks at him. “I— I believe you may be the first.”

“Because it’s kind of a weird story.”

“Yes, well,” Thor says, “I told you all anyone has ever done to me since I came to this world is lock me away. You were the one who insisted it was everyone else’s fault, not mine— You talk too much, that’s why I’m telling you all of this now.”

Scott offers a small smile. “It’s good to have a friend in a place as depressing as this. It helps you get through it, I think.”

Thor worries at his lip a little. “I wonder what they did with Loki, after. They could not have executed him, I do not believe. If I am not welcomed back in Asgard for my crimes, then there’s no chance he is. Would it even be possible for him to have a friend in this world?”

“I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying,” Scott says. “What’s Asgard?”

“The place of my birth. My home.”

“So like… not in the Bay Area,” Scott muses.

“The Bay Area?”

“Here.”

“Oh.”

“Wait,” Scott says. “You’ve been here how long now? Since before all of that even happened, and you didn’t even know where you actually were? I’m going to— actually, no, can you start from the beginning?”

Thor sits up at that. “None have believed me to date,” he says. “And you just said it was weird.”

“Well, maybe it won’t be if I know it from the beginning. Who have you been able to tell it to in full?”

“… Nobody,” Thor says. “Nobody has been willing to listen.”

Scott takes a peak through the small window on their door. Darkness reigns outside their cell, without a guard in sight. He slides over and hops up on top of Thor’s bunk, sitting beside him. “I’ve been trying to get you to talk for months now. And we’ve got nothing but time. Try me.”

* * *

A week before his release, Scott gets off the phone with Luis. He’s got a ride secured - an excited one, and though they only know each other through prison it was somehow so refreshing to hear his voice again - and a place to crash, at least to start.

Because he can’t go back home. He’s divorced now. The law is not on his side, and his chances of seeing his daughter—

Fuck.

Thor stands over him, looking down at Scott laying on his bed, a blank stare gracing his features. They’ve talked a lot more since he told Scott who he really was, how everything came to be, and though he was met, is still met, with scepticism, that sense of being able to be honest and not considered crazy— Well, after four years, Thor finally feels like he has a friend.

He still misses Sif and the Warriors Three dearly, and he’s seen Scott have to work his way out of the occasional brawl enough times to know the extent of his fighting skills allows him to maybe hold his own only against weaker opponents, but actually having a friend again has been amazing.

“You’re leaving soon,” Thor says, cocking his head from over him.

Scott’s eyes don’t even move to look at him. “Yeah,” he says.

“You don’t seem happy about it.”

Scott’s eyes flick over at that, for a moment. “Just thinking about all I’ve lost and how hard it’s going to be to get any of it back.”

“Well,” Thor says, “it can’t be any more difficult than what I face, so please, do take comfort in that.”

Scott huffs almost something of a laugh. “Yeah, I guess I have that going for me.” He falls silent for a moment. “But it’s just— stupid mistakes, you know? If you hadn’t tried to start a war with the Frosty Snowmen.”

“Frost Giants,” Thor quickly interrupts.

“Sure,” Scott says. “And if I had just stopped. And taken my righteous anger, or whatever I was feeling at the time, and just not done it. Then I’d still have Cassie. I never would have let her down.”

“Who is Cassie?” Thor asks, pulling up a chair to meet Scott at something closer to eye level.

Scott blinks. “I never— My daughter,” he says. “I never even mentioned her to you. I’m sorry. It’s, prison, you know, the people you meet in here— She’s my daughter.”

Thor shrugs; he’s met enough unpleasant people during his time in California (frankly, Scott may be the only pleasant one), he gets it. “Then why be upset? Soon you will be reunited.”

“I wish,” Scott says. “It’s not— I don’t think my ex-wife is going to want me around her. She’s so young, and now she has a criminal for a father. What kind of a parent does that, just abandons their kid in a fit of anger? Who knows how much harder I’ve made things for her, if I’ll ever even be able to make it up to her.”

“My father abandoned me in a fit of anger,” Thor says softly. That causes Scott to actually sit up and look at him. “I do not know if he has given me so much as a thought in the four years since. But you did not mean to hurt her. And you care. I think, for that, you’ll be fine.”

Scott moves as though he’s going to reach out before realizing his arms aren’t long enough to reach Thor. “I’m sorry, you have your own problems, you don’t need—“

“No,” Thor says, “you’re better than my father, of that I am certain.”

Scott looks away at that, bites his lower lip a bit in the silence. Eventually, he says, “It’s almost her birthday and I don’t know if I’m going to be allowed to see her.”

“You will be,” Thor insists. “Because you care. And you have the power to correct things, so long as you use it. One mistake should not define you to your family.”

Scott shakes his head. “No, it shouldn’t.”

* * *

“When you get out,” Scott says, head still smarting courtesy of Peachy, and he’s still not convinced he hasn’t started bleeding again, “call me.” He hands Thor a scrap of paper with his number on it. “Seriously, let’s get you a support network already.”

* * *

After everything - after no jobs and cat burgling and ants and Hope and the quantum realm and Cassie and saving Cassie and building a bridge back to his family and seriously, what’s the deal with him and Hope - Scott gets a call from San Quentin.

“Hey, Luis,” he says as he hangs up, “can I take your van back up to prison? I gotta pick up my other celly. Also, uh, do we have an extra bed? Or couch or whatever?”

* * *

The drive back starts off awkward as Thor breaks the silence by saying, “You know, I do not believe I have ever felt as though I was free in this world.”

Scott looks over. “Not even when you first came here?”

“No,” Thor says. “Then I was in the middle of nowhere, confused, with no concept of where I was or what was happening. By the time I had my bearings in any capacity I had been locked away.”

Scott sucks air in through his teeth. “So, now that you’re free, what do you want to do?”

“You know that I do not possess any of your world’s currency,” Thor says. “Nor do I have proper identification, which, after my years in prisons here to date, I suspect poses a massive problem.”

“Yeah, you kinda need that for a lot of things,” Scott says. “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out. I’m actually working with a bunch of other ex-cons right now so they’re not gonna care about that stuff at all. At least it’ll work in the short term.”

“Ex-cons? What of your family? Your daughter?”

“Oh,” Scott beams. “A lot happened since I last saw you. Like, a lot. I’m kind of a superhero now? Not that that’s important. But, yeah, I got to see her again. I’m back in her life, surprisingly with very little hard feelings, and it’s just, it’s great. I had no idea I could be this happy again. It’s really, really great.”

Upon Thor’s silence, Scott glances out of the corner of his eye to see his reaction; there’s a small smile on his face. Eventually, he says, in a quiet voice maybe not even meant for Scott’s ears, “I’m glad at least one of us gets to experience such a joyous reunion.”

“Yeah,” Scott says, his own smile shrinking a little as the wheels in his head start turning. As they near the apartment, he turns to Thor and says, “I have an idea.”

* * *

“You’re going to New York?” Dave asks.

“We,” Scott says, standing up straighter to put an arm around Thor’s shoulders, “are going to New York.”

“You and the god-like man,” Kurt says, scepticism creeping into his monotone.

Thor beams. “Thank you.”

“Wait wait wait wait wait,” Luis says. “When? For how long? Scotty, I got plans, you know I need you, I don’t really know you sir but you’re welcome to join in too, all showered and cleaned up and whatnot you look great, like a face anyone would trust, which we definitely need, I mean that’s if you want to, but, why are you going to New York again?”

Scott motions at Thor. “His brother’s there, somewhere, probably. I figure, he helped me my last year inside, nobody’s ever helped him, I’m gonna help him find his brother. It’s perfect.”

“New York is big place,” Kurt says. “How do you know you will find your brother?”

“How big could it be?” Thor asks.

“Very big,” Dave says.

“His brother is very recognizable,” Scott says.

Thor nods. “His name is Loki Odinson. He is the one who led the Chitauri invasion some time ago. People there will know who he is.”

“Sorry, the Chi-whatnow?” Luis asks.

“The aliens.”

“Ohhhh. Yeah, yeah, that makes sense. But, uh, how are you going to be able to find him? Wouldn’t they have him locked away? And not like San Quentin, but like, a super max. Or something worse.”

Thor’s expression darkens. “You think they would have him killed?”

“Nooooo,” Scott says. “No, no. It takes way more than four years to actually execute a guy on death row. They wouldn’t do that.”

“But if he led alien invasion, then they might not care,” Kurt says.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Dave pipes up. “They might have just taken him out back and, like, Old Yellered him.”

“Old Yellered?” Thor asks.

“It’s nothing,” Scott says, turning to glare at Dave. “I’m sure we’ll be able to find him.”

“How, though? I mean, nobody’s seen or heard from him since the Chialien thing, right? And that was three years ago, right? So he’d be locked up pretty tight probably, and you’re just some guy. Even Thor is, he’s very big and I’m maybe a little afraid and feeling some other things I don’t know how to vocalize, but even he’s just some guy. How you going to get anywhere near? You’re just some guys,” Luis says.

Scott puffs up his chest. “You guys forget, I’m a superhero now.”

Three vocal groans meet him. Thor looks at him quizzically; Scott frowns. “Guys, I met the Falcon. He knows who I am. I’m sure that’ll give me some pull.” Aside to Thor, he says, “The Falcon is a superhero who knows the superheroes who fought your brother.” Thor nods sagely in understanding.

“Didn’t he also fight you? Does he like you now?” Luis asks.

“Hey. Look at me,” Scott says. “I’m lovable. Everybody likes me. Also, I can go apologize to him, get a real working relationship established, you know? Lots of reasons for this trip.”

“You’re already packed and ready to go, then?” Dave asks.

“You are recent ex-con with no job,” Kurt says. “How you afford plane tickets?”

Thor’s face falls at that. “I have nothing in this world, not even a name,” he says. He glances at Scott. “I couldn’t impose on you to spend currency on me that could be helping your daughter—“

“No! No, I’ve got that figured out, too,” Scott says. “We go to a BART station, shrink down, take the train to the airport, and just hop on the first plane to New York we find. Nobody’ll notice us. Free travel! Though they moved their Avengers facility to the middle of nowhere, I might have to rent a car for that, but that’s okay. The rest is free.”

“I apologize,” Thor says. “We shrink down? Is this a metaphor?”

“No, I’ve got a suit, hold on, let me show you,” Scott says as he runs out of the room.

“Oh great, the suit,” Kurt says.

“I hate the suit,” Luis chimes in.

“It’s freaky,” Dave says.

Scott comes running back in, awkwardly zipping up his modified motorcycle suit with one hand and carrying the helmet in the other. “Okay,” he says. “Now just remember, this is totally legit, and safe, and I’m still here, and then we’re going to New York.” And he shrinks.

Thor blinks, looks around, then kneels down to get a look at Scott waving at him from the floor. “I have seen a lot of magic in my life,” he says, “but even this is new to me.”

Luis nudges Dave. “He’s taking this very well.”

* * *

Once they’re on the road, car with New York plates secured and everything, and have time to kill due to being stuck in traffic, Scott turns to Thor in the passenger seat and asks, “So, how was that?”

“Why did you have a suit and I only got things thrown at me?” Thor grumbles.

“Well I only had one suit,” Scott says. “And it fits me. But hey, Hank’s particle discs did the trick, right? Welcome to New York.”

Thor gazes at the tall buildings around them. “It is impressive,” he says. “And filled with people. To think Loki attacked this place, the destruction I saw…” He trails off into a pensive silence.

“Hey,” Scott says. “Do you know what you want to say to him? When we get to him, I mean.”

Thor worries at his lip. “When I first learned of what he’d done, I wanted to take him, grab him by the shoulders, shake him, yell at him, demand to know what he was thinking, why he would do such a thing. But since then, I have spent so much time fighting for myself, and I never even thought I would see him again. To know that I might be this close now, and words fail me.”

“Well, we’ve still got some time,” Scott says. “You can pretend I’m him, if that’ll help.”

Thor looks at Scott. “Perhaps, but you are nothing like my brother.”

“Knowing what I know, I… think that’s a compliment?”

Thor laughs lightly. “It could be, yes.”

The sounds of the city fill the air in the car, and Thor busies himself with watching the skyscrapers and people pass them by, slowly. It’s been three years; the damage that’s been wrought has been largely cleaned and repaired, diminishing any horrors he may have thought present otherwise.

“Were you here before?” Thor asks. “When my brother came down on this city, I mean.”

“No,” Scott says, taking a moment to glance at Thor. “I was still in San Francisco, watching it on TV like everyone else. I remember we all kind of just stopped working that day.”

“You claim to be a hero now,” Thor says. “If you’d had your shrinking suit back then, do you think you would have helped?”

Scott blinks, then stares blankly at the road ahead. “I don’t… I’ve only done this once before. I don’t know if I could have. I’d like to think, yeah, of course, it’s what any good person would do, but I also had a three-year-old at home, and I’d never seen something like that before, I don’t know if I… I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

Thor hums. “You did, ultimately, abandon your child though.”

“To do the right thing,” Scott points out. “And then get carried away,” he sighs. “So, okay, yeah, maybe I would have helped? It would have been the right thing to do.”

“It would have, yes,” Thor says, smiling. “That’s what heroes do.”

Scott feels a blush creeping over his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says. “I already know you would have helped, if you could have. Is that what you’ll tell your brother? That he was wrong?”

“I suspect whatever I tell Loki, he will try to twist it back around on me,” Thor says. “Deflecting is his way.”

“Okay,” Scott says. “So he blames you, somehow. How do you respond?”

“I deny.”

“And to that, he says…”

“He insists he is the victim and I remain at fault,” Thor sighs. “I am starting to fear this may be a pointless exercise.”

Scott taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “Okay. New approach. If Cassie was in trouble and I had to talk to her and she wasn’t in the mood to listen, I’d listen to her first.”

“Are you comparing my brother to a child?”

“Does he act like one?”

Thor remains silent for several moments. “… Proceed.”

Scott grins to himself. “Okay, so, I’d need to get on her level first. Why was she in trouble? Why did she feel the need to lash out?”

“I am to play therapist to my brother, you mean,” Thor says.

“Has anyone ever done that before?”

Thor stares outside as the buildings get smaller and smaller, as more greenery pops up, as Scott warns him of the hours they still have ahead of them. He responds that he needs that time to consider how to do just that, and Scott grants him a period of quiet longer than he ever had when they were locked up in a cell together.

(Gas station stops not included, of course; Thor getting the chance to marvel at the unhealthy food before him and enjoy it without having to steal for the first time, not to mention his first ever Slurpee.

“I have a horrible headache, but it’s so good.”

“Yeah, that happens. Just keep drinking.”

“This is what free humans willingly do to themselves?”

“Dude. Slurpee. It’s worth it.”

“… Yes, it is.”)

And his resolve steadies itself as they get closer to their destination: there’s no point in his trying to punish Loki further. He already knows how little that does. But if he’s able to come face to face with him again? Maybe he can turn that into something good.

* * *

Scott shrinks down the car and puts it in his pocket. “Okay, let me do the talking.”

“Why did you do that?”

“First, it’s easier to keep all our stuff in one spot that way. Second, the suit’s in there, and that’s the one thing I absolutely cannot let anybody else get their hands on, ever, or Hank will literally murder me,” Scott says. “And if I’m the only one who knows how to make it big again, then it should be fine.”

“Should be,” Thor says, raising an eyebrow.

“Will be,” Scott says, more to himself than Thor. He looks up, staring at nothing in particular in the distance, a faraway look in his eye, before he shakes his head and returns to the moment. “Hey, look, this is a pretty good plan, as far as plans I come up with go.”

“And I appreciate it,” Thor says. “But your last plan…”

Scott shakes his head. “My last one was a collaboration and a great success. The one before that got me in jail, but all the ones before that? No arrests. Got everything I wanted. I’m good. I’m going to knock on their door now, so be ready to make your case.”

Thor nods as Scott brings his hand up, rapping his knuckles against the door. They wait a moment, and Scott starts shuffling awkwardly. “These guys are kind of big deals, just walking up and knocking on their door seems weird, like nobody else can do that— ohhh my god,” he nearly falls back as the door opens, his hand grabbing at Thor’s massive arm to steady himself.

A red-faced man with a yellow stone in his head dressed rather smartly is the one peering out at them from the entranceway. “May I… help you?” he asks, as if he never does this sort of thing. He probably doesn’t. It’s all so weird that the three of them just stand there for a while, silently staring at each other.

Scott is the first to snap out of it. “Oh! Yes, uh, is the Falcon home?”

“The Falcon?” the man asks.

“Yeah,” Scott says, puffing his chest a little, “we go back. Uh, he knows me. He can vouch for me.”

The man peers at Scott curiously, then Thor, then Scott again. “Very well,” he says, “I shall see if he can come to the door for you.”

With that, the door shuts, and Scott and Thor are left standing on its stoop awkwardly. “Well, I think that’s a good start.”

“Do you even have a plan?” Thor hisses.

“I mean,” Scott says, “I only really thought this far ahead, so, uh, I’m sure it will be fine, we’ve gotten this far, right?”

The door opens again at that, Sam Wilson peering out at them. When he sees Scott, his eyes narrow. “You,” he says.

“Me,” Scott replies with a little smile and wave. “Hi. How are you?”

Sam grabs Scott by the collar of his shirt, bringing him forward. Scott stumbles, smile quickly gone. “You always come back to the places you rob?” he quietly hisses.

“Actually, you wouldn’t believe this, but this isn’t the first time I’ve done that,” Scott lowers his voice in kind. 

“Why am I not surprised,” Sam mutters. He lets go of Scott, then, as if seeing Thor for the first time. “Who’s your friend?” he asks, voice back to normal speaking volume, taking on an air of authority. Scott smiles to himself because he knows exactly what Sam is doing and it makes him feel kind of good to know he’s capable of besting someone else and inadvertently forcing them to put on a bravado.

“I am Thor, of Asgard,” Thor says, “and I have a request, if you are able to assist me.”

Sam blinks. “And you’re with him,” he says, scepticism taking over his tone.

“Yes.”

“Do you shrink, too?”

“I do not.”

Scott waves. “No, that’s just me. Hi again. Can we come in? I’m sorry about last time.”

Sam looks back at Scott. He’s pensive for a few moments, but neither Scott nor Thor really react or show nervousness, so he sighs. “You can come in,” he says, standing aside, “but _only_ if you don’t talk about what happened last time.”

“What last time?” Scott asks breezily as he steps inside the Avengers headquarters, internally gawking at how this is his life now and it’s amazing.

“I know nothing of any of this,” Thor assures Sam solemnly, placing a giant hand on his shoulder before following Scott inside. Sam stares at the place where it was before quietly closing the door and following them to their foyer.

It’s vast, and kind of empty, which Scott supposes makes sense, since it’s a very big facility and not too many people would be here. He’s here, though. He’s one of the lucky few that gets to be here. He spins around silently, staring up at the high ceiling, marvelling at how fancy it all is, like the furthest possible thing from prison.

Since these are bonafide recognized superheroes, he supposes that makes sense. He’s more… underground. Sometimes literally.

“Well?” Sam asks, snapping him out of it. “What do you need?”

Scott looks over at Thor, who has gone silent. He takes over. “A favour,” he says. “And kind of a big one.”

“And why should I help you?” Sam asks, crossing his arms.

“It’s not for me,” Scott says. “I need you to help him. And, if I’m understanding everything right, possibly all of Earth.”

Sam cocks his head, clearly disbelieving. “Is this like you said you had to save the world last time,” he asks, voice dipping low again.

Scott shakes his head.

“You are familiar with the battle over your New York City,” Thor says, his own voice so soft it takes both Scott and Sam a moment to register him.

“It’s not my— Yeah, I’m familiar with it,” Sam says. “I wasn’t there, but I know about it. How could anyone not?”

“Did you know, then, that it was my brother who orchestrated the attacks?”

Whatever Sam was expecting, it wasn’t that. His arms drop to his sides as he opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“He is Loki, of Asgard. I do not know how or why he acquired such an army and decided to invade this world. It is completely unlike the Loki I knew. But I have not seen him in four years, I do not know what has happened to him since… But it was my brother.” Thor is staring at his feet, now, seemingly unwilling to look anyone in the eye, the act of taking blame for the devastation wrought upon a city he’d just passed through and seen the amount of life housed in it first hand taking its first toll.

Sam, however, looks straight at him. Thor feels his gaze and lifts his head up slightly, peering at him through his long hair. “Prove it,” Sam says.

“I do not know how it may be possible for you to verify the facts I know,” Thor says. “But I likely know far more than you do.”

Sam looks at Scott. “You believe this guy?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know him?”

“Prison.”

Sam scoffs. “Of course,” he mutters. “Look, I don’t know what con you think you’re pulling here, or if you got conned, but—“

“Hey,” Scott says. “You spend enough time in there, you can start telling the character of the guys in there. And most of them— most of us— deserved it. But in my three years in San Quentin, he was completely different.” Scott looks Sam directly in the eyes. “He was the only one who never deserved to be there, and he’s the only person I’ve ever met who’s had that level of perspective. You don’t get that without sincerity.”

Sam looks between the two of them. “And what do you want out of this?” he asks, tone neutral.

“To see my brother, if you have him,” Thor says. “To understand. And to try to make amends, from Asgard.”

“Yet it takes you three years to come forward,” Sam says.

“He was locked up,” Scott says.

“For three years? Why?”

Thor worries at his lip, but his eyes are hard. “Because I was banished by a cruel father to a world of which I knew nothing and by the time I had any sense of bearings, I was already thrown behind bars and it became all I knew. Because Scott is the only person in this world who ever actually listened to me, and let me believe it would be possible to do something else.” Scott looks sharply at Thor at that, completely unused to hearing his name in such a context, of one of doing the right thing, of not being a total fuck up and disappointment. Cassie is probably the only other person who actually thinks of him that way, and she’s biased. And six.

“To make amends,” Thor continues. “There are entire worlds out there you know nothing about, and if you are holding a being from one of them captive, you need to be aware of the possible consequences.”

Sam holds Thor’s gaze, and at Thor’s refusal to back down from it, he speaks up. “I wasn’t actually there for the battle,” he admits. “I’ve never fought an alien. I don’t know your brother, if he is who you say he is. I need to get someone else.” He looks over at Scott. “You, don’t touch anything.”

“I would never,” Scott says, crossing his heart.

Sam shakes his head. “Wait here,” he says, retreating into the compound.

Thor looks at Scott. “Is that good?”

“I have no idea.”

It doesn’t take too long for Sam to return with someone else.

“Holy shit that’s Captain America,” Scott whispers, a little too loudly, to Thor. At Thor’s lack of reaction, he continues, “He is a very very very very very big deal.”

Thor tears his eyes away from the approaching figures to look back at Scott’s earnestness. “Are you okay?”

“I’m geeking out a little, maybe.”

“Was he in New York?”

“He led the counterattack,” Scott says, actually quietly this time.

“Then perhaps he can help,” Thor says, stepping forward as Sam and his friend approach. 

The new guy extends his arm. “Steve Rogers,” he says.

“Thor, of Asgard,” Thor replies, taking it in his grip. It’s strong, firm, and warm. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Steve says. He lets go, extends his hand for Scott. “And you are…?”

“Scott Lang, big fan,” Scott says, taking it, his brain kind of breaking. “A friend of Sam’s.”

From behind Steve, Sam raises his eyebrows at Scott, a _what the fuck?_ expression on his face. Scott grins in return, still shaking Steve’s hand, eventually realizes what he’s doing. “Oh. Shit. Sorry.”

“A friend, huh?” Steve asks, looking back at Sam, who quickly wipes his expression.

“It’s a story,” Sam says.

“A good one,” Scott goads. “Oh, uh. But. This isn’t about us.”

“So I’ve heard,” Steve says, turning his attention back to Thor. “Thor, could you start from the beginning for me?”

Thor nods. “Rogers,” he says, “have you ever been on a quest to redeem someone most would consider irredeemable?”

For just a second, Steve gets a faraway look in his eyes, staring at a spot on the window beyond Thor before immediately returning back to reality and meeting Thor’s gaze once again. “Yes,” he says, with full conviction.

Thor doesn’t smile. “My brother is one such person. I am hoping you will be able to assist me.”

* * *

Thor finds himself alone, in a darkened room, imperceptibly bobbing up and down in the middle of an ocean. The Raft is a prison like no other he’s been in before, he thinks, as he looks up into the corner where he knows a camera is recording his every movement. He turns to look at all four corners of the room; he was warned in advance that anything he says will not be for just his and his brother’s ears, but for those of everyone guarding this cell and its inmate as well.

A cell that, for once, he’s on the right side of. He can leave whenever he wants - as long as he doesn’t say anything horribly stupid.

But even if he does, Thor figures, this is his last shot at having a life outside bars mean something. And if he fails at that, then maybe he deserves to be shut inside - it isn’t like there’s anything out in this world waiting for him to return.

He has one friend, who has only known him for a year at his lowest, and that friend has an entire family and life outside of all of this; Thor wouldn’t begrudge Scott for any abandonment, nor would he be willing to pussyfoot around Loki for a chance at leaving without him.

_This is it_ , Thor thinks as the lights brighten.

“Brother,” he says, laying eyes upon him for the first time in four years, since their father cast him out.

The years, he can immediately see, have been much kinder to Thor. Loki’s hair is stringy, his cheekbones so gaunt they threaten to break through the skin. His clothes, the sort of monochrome plain garment Thor himself grew used to, hang off of him. He is missing an arm.

Loki slowly raises his head, and Thor can see his sunken, dead eyes for but a moment - until recognition occurs and they immediately spark to life, joyous and furious all at once.

“The prodigal son returns,” Loki half-hisses, half-croaks, voice hoarse from lack of use.

Thor shakes his head. “It would seem none of us is prodigal any longer. What has happened to you?”

“No?” Loki asks, cocking his head, completely ignoring Thor’s question. “Odin has not accepted you back into his good graces?”

“I have not seen our father since he cast me out some time ago,” Thor says. _Be honest,_ he thinks, _but do not delve in further than necessary._ He knows that’s going to be a hard task.

“And yet you are here,” Loki says, still but for his eyes darting up to the cameras he can see, and back to Thor’s face. “How?”

“I made a friend,” Thor says.

“A friend,” Loki mocks. “Just one?”

“Yes,” Thor deadpans, and Loki seems unsure what to do with that. With the break in flow, Thor decides to get to the point. “You attacked this planet,” he says.

That kickstarts Loki again. “I would hardly call one failed moment an attack,” he sighs.

“Why?” Thor asks. He thought this would be fine, but locked in a small room and being monitored, he has to risk the urge to start pacing.

“Why what?” Loki drolls. Thor can see the bright spark of life slowly returning to his eyes, how haggard the rest of him looks be damned. This is probably the most fun he’s had in years. “What is your definition of an attack, brother?”

Thor means to shakes his head in exaggerated exasperation; it comes out as a nervous twitch of the neck. “What you did,” he says. “I saw the city you launched your assault on. It is doing well.”

“I’m glad, I’m sure.”

“The people living there are healing and prospering and free. What happened to your arm? I know you didn’t lose it in battle.”

“Again, if you could hardly call that a battle,” Loki says. He gets up, and Thor catches the muted effort to grab at the phantom limb before Loki fully resists and keeps his remaining hand in place. “And ’tis but a limb, no matter.”

“It’s your arm,” Thor says. “It does matter.”

“Well,” Loki starts to pace, but it’s breezy, almost mocking the rigid stance Thor has taken to try to avoid showing his discomfort, “then if you could take it up with the bastard who saw fit to remove it, I suppose I shall be grateful to have actually seen your face again.”

“And who removed it?”

“Your friend, I would assume,” Loki says, raising his eyebrows.

Thor actually can laugh easily at that. “No, it wouldn’t have been him.”

“And how can you be so sure? How is it you got in here, then?”

Thor grins broadly, thinking about Scott’s rants about police and prison guards and the systemic nature of power whenever they’d been stuck together on lockdown, or how at ease he seemed amongst his ex-con friends, or how completely unrepentant he was when telling Thor about how he got his suit and how easy it would be to keep breaking the law with it, if he was into that sort of thing. “You know nothing of the company I have kept in exile, then.”

“And yet you are the first visitor I have ever had.”

“I’m honoured,” Thor says, and actually kind of means it. He ignores the implication that Loki, too, has been completely abandoned here and essentially left to rot; thinking back on the feelings he experienced as he learned of the assault he led, Thor understands the impulse, even if he doesn’t agree with it.

“What are you doing here, then? You have no position over me to gloat. You may be able to leave these walls, but to what?” Loki has stopped his leisurely pacing, now, turning to face Thor directly, middle of the cell, face near the glass, arm leaning against it, gaze boring into Thor’s own.

Thor looks at the cameras. “I wish to understand,” he says simply.

“Understand what,” Loki’s lips curl back into a snarl.

“Why my brother would take the same path as me, fully well knowing what a failure it is to unleash an invasion upon an unsuspecting world. Odin made it very clear he frowns upon such things. Only at least when I did it, the grounds for war had been set. This world was what threat to Asgard, exactly?”

“Your posture is stiff,” Loki notes.

“You’re deflecting,” Thor crosses his arms.

“You expected anything less?”

Thor snorts. “I had hoped that the years and seriousness of it all might have made you more open to honest discussion. Self-reflection is a wonderful thing, brother. It would suit you.”

Loki squints at him. “It doesn’t suit you, though,” he says. “You’re still without power here, I can tell. A cornered beast who has only just started to try to comprehend what went wrong, and only because he could no longer smash his way out of things. Did you not find your hammer?”

There’s a twinge inside Thor at that; the longing for Mjolnir had become so dull he’d completely forgotten about it. “For all the power you, apparently, have retained, and all the good it has done you.”

Loki leans back from the wall, arm unfolding in a _what can you do?_ sort of gesture. “Do you wish to see what I can still do?”

“Am I the object of your anger?”

Loki’s eyes narrow. “You have no idea,” he hisses.

Thor smiles at him, easy, but without warmth. “Look at us,” he says, gesturing to the walls around them, “a pair of abandoned brothers who both thought of ourselves as bigger than the worlds around us, getting exactly what we deserved. And yet still you turn to childhood quibbles. Would you have this be your life, then?”

“Unlike some,” Loki says, jutting his chin out, “I am able to bide my time.”

Thor ponders over his now-mortal form, the scars it’s picked up over the years. “And that will make everything better.”

“It will be a start.”

“What happened in the year I first lost you, brother?” Thor asks softly. “What happened to your heart, to harden it so? Mischief and trickery, yes, but malice? You were hardly eager to fight on Jotunheim, but the deaths of thousands on Midgard suit you now?”

“You spend years exiled on this primitive world, and you care for it, even though it has mistreated you?” Loki snaps in return. “My, brother, how low you’ve sunk.”

Reflexively, Thor looks at the walls surrounding them. He knows he can leave at any time. He has to remind himself of that. “I have been fine,” he says, without conviction.

It’s Loki’s turn to snort. “Clearly. That’s why you act as a caged rat.”

“There are worse things to be. There are worse ways to be.”

“This is but temporary.”

Thor’s eyes flick back to where Loki’s missing arm would have been. “Is it? When was your trial?”

That seems to throw Loki. “You think I had a trial?” he asks, posturing replaced with genuine bemusement. “It does not matter.”

But Thor thinks back on the various court dates he’d had, most of which he never understood, brief flashes in between stints behind bars and further stints stealing to survive so he could continue existing in that one, seemingly never-ending loop. They had been meaningless for him, until the end, when he’d started grasping to the notion maybe he did have some kind of chance, until he’d laid hand on someone in uniform and been sent away far longer than he'd become used to for it. That there was some justice system being meted out.

And though the scale of Thor’s crimes on Midgard paled in comparison to Loki’s…

“Then I mean to return you to Asgard and get you one,” Thor says. “Before you can inflict further harm to this world.”

Loki smiles at Thor. “We both know that won’t be possible.”

Thor smiles back, strained. “I will make it so,” he says. “I will make Odin face his problems, and I will make you face justice. Not this revenge-based cycle, not something that will lead to further pain, but something that will force both you and Asgard to take responsibility.”

“Because that’s what you’re all about now,” Loki says, mocking.

“I am trying,” Thor says.

Loki cocks his head at Thor, then moves to sit back down, how Thor found him for the first time in four years. “I shall anticipate the day.”

* * *

Thor finds himself in the odd position he did when he first fell on Midgard: staring up at a night sky full of stars, constellations unfamiliar to him, world foreign and quite frankly frightening, emotionally raw and without the confidence that had so naturally come to him.

“Wow,” Scott says from beside him, staring upwards as well, “it’s a whole lot different without light pollution. Hey, you think it’s weird they let us come up here on our own? And also that we’re in the middle of the ocean, somehow, like that’s a normal thing?”

Then, there are the things that are different: Thor knows where he is, he has pleasant company, and something of a plan of action, or at least he hopes.

“Is it not?” Thor asks. “I still don’t know much of your world.”

“It is not,” Scott confirms. He takes a break from looking upwards to look at Thor. “So, how’d it go?”

Thor blinks at him. “You did not listen in?”

Scott shrugs. “Figured it wasn’t any of my business. Talked to some of the other guys instead. Oh! I might get to be an Avenger now, maybe? Sam seems less mad at me now at least, like, I feel comfortable calling him Sam.”

Thor smiles, though he doesn’t really follow. “That sounds wonderful,” he says. “I… do not know if I accomplished much of anything.”

“But at least you tried, right?”

Thor nods. “I did have a somewhat… intense, debriefing. I wish to return my brother to our home; those in charge here seemed unhappy about removing him from this place, but perhaps a bit more willing once I told them his lifespan will be far longer than theirs and his ability to unleash destruction upon this world will probably outlast their prison.”

Scott blinks. “Yeah, that seems fair.”

“They wanted to kill him,” Thor says, staring out over the inky darkness of the ocean. “It was actually Rogers who insisted they not. I’ll owe a debt to him, for that.”

“Captain America is so damn cool,” Scott sighs wistfully, resting his chin in his hands at the Raft’s edge. “I knew he’d be a prisoner’s rights kind of guy.”

“I should hope to establish diplomatic relations between this world and Asgard, largely because of him.”

They fall silent at that, the only sound around them the wind picking up, the waves splashing against the Raft's edge. “How will you do that, though?” Scott asks softly. “Aren’t you stuck here?”

“The officials seemed somewhat alarmed when Loki mentioned Mjolnir to me,” Thor says. “Apparently they found it years ago and have not been able to figure out what to do with it. I can get them to take me there, I hope. Solve both of our problems.”

“And then you can go back home,” Scott says.

“And have words with my father, and why he feels abandonment is a substitute for teaching life lessons.” Thor rests a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “I thought I loved my father and he, in turn, had love for me. But the way I’ve seen you talk about your own child… I should think your parenting vastly superior, that your daughter will not grow up to make mistakes the way my brother and I did.”

Scott looks at the hand on his shoulder, then stares up at Thor. “I’m not really all that special,” he says. “That’s just how dads should be.”

“And in my experience, they are not. So you are special.”

Scott smiles and shakes his head. “Well, that’s a lot of pressure all of a sudden.”

Thor claps a hand on Scott’s back and smiles in turn. “I’m sure you will be able to meet it just fine.”

“Yeah,” Scott says. They turn at the sounds of their ride getting ready to leave. “Hey, can I come with you to see your hammer in person?”

“Of course,” Thor says. “You are a dear friend now.”

Scott gives a little fist pump. “Sweet. Do you think they could drop us off in New York first so I can return the rental?”

“You still have it?”

Scott pats his jeans pocket. “Oh yeah, suit’s still in there, can’t lose that. And ideally, wouldn’t have these guys know about it, so…”

Thor nods. “Your mistrust of authority is noted and likely well-advised. We shall take some time away from their eyes to complete your task.”

“Awesome,” Scott says. Then, as they’re boarding their helicopter out, he turns back to Thor. “Hey, if her mom says yes, can Cassie come see your hammer, too? She’d probably love that.”

“I would be honoured to meet your daughter,” Thor says.

Scott beams. “A superhero dad, a loving mom and step-dad, and the coolest ex-con uncles any kid could ever ask for, an alien prince guy at the top of the list. This kid’s gonna have the best life.”

Thor looks at the way Scott practically glows when talking about Cassie; eyes shining, smile impossibly bright. “She really is.”


End file.
